Friday, February 23, 2007

I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane

I was going to post a picture here, but since I'm on dial-up and it was taking forever, I reconsidered. Maybe I'll find a WiFi site.

13B, I couldn’t believe that I had booked that seat. I didn’t even think these regional jets had that many rows, but there I was with my boarding pass for 13B. It had to be a mistake, but there was the 13th row, the last row, with just two seats. There was not an empty seat left on the plane. A nice looking middle age woman was sitting in seat A. Now that I am 50, I’m realizing that middle aged women can be attractive. I stowed my stuff and took notice of my surroundings. “Hum,” I think to myself. “The exit row was halfway up the plane, I hope this thing doesn’t crash, that’s a lot of people to crawl over.” More importantly, across the aisle from me, a mere 15 inches away, was the door to the bathroom. “Having the john that handy can’t be good,” I ponder.

As soon as we got to a comfortable cruising altitude, the pilot turned off the fasten seat belt sign and a line immediately formed. I tried to sleep, but was constantly awaken by someone navigating the space between my seat and the bathroom. This generally meant that they intruded into my airspace. In this ninety minute flight, I was up close and personal to more butts than a gynecologist on a good day. After about thirty minutes, I gave up sleeping and decided to engage my seatmate with conversation.

“I think you and I are the only two people on this plane that hasn’t gone into that bathroom,” I said, assuming that she wouldn’t take it as a pick up line.

She chuckled and said something about people not going to the potty before getting on the plane.I then noticed that she was reading a horse magazine. There, in a full color half page advertisement was an offer that for just $2995 you can get a tank to go behind a lawn tractor that would vacuum up horse shit. This contraption is just what the small farmer needed to have a clean pasture, according to the text.

“Is that thing for real?” I ask.

“I was just wondering that myself,” she said.

“Whatever happened to natural fertilization?”

“I’d never buy one,” she assured me.

“If this line doesn’t let up soon, we’re going to need one for this plane,” I suggested.

Luckily, before the plane’s holding tank overflowed, we landed in Atlanta and I trotted off thee concourses over where I my next flight was waiting, making sure to go to the bathroom before boarding. Soon, I was heading in northwest toward the Old North State (North Carolina).

By the way, what all the above means is that I won't be real active blogging for the next week. I'll try to catch up and make up later.

On the flip side, it seems like on long distance flights of 16 hours or more, I always get seated in the middle and the aisle seat it inhabited by someone with a bladder the size of a basketball. I once sat by a guy who never once left his seat the entire 16 hour flight and was drinking booze to boot!

Musings

This blog contains observations on life and nature written by Sage, satire and parody written by Nevada Jack, and an occasional book review or poem. As a general rule, the author of the blog doesn't write about his work or his family. Email at sagecoveredhills [at] gmail.com